The Four Stages of Grief
by theworldabove
Summary: au- what if Strax hadn't been able to revive the Jenny? chronology of Vastra's grief. oneshot. Sorry for the dodgy summary, please read! Jenny/Vastra


**The Four Stages of Grief**

**Denial**

Madame Vastra woke, her breathing heavy, and her nightgown tangled amongst the bed sheets. She stretched out her hand, seeking the familiar warmth that only Jenny could provide. Jenny with her pink skin and soft curves, beautiful, yet strong at the same time. Only she wasn't there.

She was never going to be there again.

Vastra rose from her bed, and glanced at the clock on the mantel.

Ten past two.

With shaking hands, she shrugged on a silky robe, one that Jenny had bought, and descended the stairs to the kitchen, where she tried not to _think _as she gathered the china.

Two bona fide teacups, two hand painted saucers, two silver teaspoons engraved with a Silurian crest, one small sugar bowl, a dish for the milk, and the crown jewel of her collection, a beautiful Chinese clay teapot. Carefully, she arranged each item on a wooden platter, and without bothering to call for Strax, or Parker, perhaps, she wistfully poured two cups of tea, one black as ebony, and the other just so sweet with a splash of milk.

The way Jenny liked it.

But Jenny wasn't there to drink her tea.

Jenny wasn't there to drink her tea, Jenny wasn't there to keep Vastra warm, Jenny wasn't there to quell a swell of fury, Jenny wasn't _there. _

With her head in her hands, Vastra rubbed furiously at her temples, trying not to let herself be overwhelmed by the wracking sobs that consumed her, although no tears came. Silurians didn't cry, they couldn't. It wasn't biologically possible. But just then, at that moment, Madame Vastra was sure she had never wanted anything so much as to shed away her grief. Except for Jenny, of course. Vastra had always wanted Jenny.

**Anger**

Three months after the defeat of the whisper men, Vastra was out on a case, with Strax by her side. The monster they were hunting tonight was a murderer known as the spider, who had the blood of twelve women on his hands. Hurrying through the back streets of London, Vastra kept her face low, hidden by her veil, and was sure to keep well out of sight. The spider was closing in on his victim, a young girl of about nineteen, and she knew she had to act.

"Strax," she whispered, motioning to the Sontaran, who stood a few paces ahead of her, "Create a diversion for me, will you?" he looked slightly disappointed that she hadn't asked him to behead the man, but with a viscous kind of sigh he agreed, doubling back behind the her, disappearing into the darkness.

Vastra was close enough to hear the him know, and she cringed as his manky voice pierced the eerie silence.  
"Come 'ere, dearie," he said, motioning to the girl, "Don' be frightened, I just want to have some fun. Don' you want to 'ave some fun?" The girl shook her head, turning to face Vastra, let out a small gasp of bitter shock. Because the girl, she was all pale and pink with hair the colour of freshly turned earth, but before Vastra could allow herself to fall into the icy grips of her mind that was _Jenny_, a ridiculous cry of

"SONTA HUH!" broke the deafening silence, and without further thought, she attacked.

It would have been over, done with little more than a snap of the stupid Apes neck, but Vastra was angry, and this man- he deserved the wrath of a Silurian.

By the time she was finished the man lay dead in the street, a bloody mess, most of his bones snapped clean in two. She didn't eat him- she was too angry for that. Instead she fled, without Strax, without Parker, without anybody.

Usually on those evenings, after a long case, when anger and fury and blood thirst swelled up against the back of Vastra's throat, burning her veins and searing her heart, on those evenings, Jenny was there. She would stand behind Vastra and place her warm hands just between her shoulder blades, rubbing anti-clockwise circles as she whispered sweet nothings into her ears, sometimes words, sometimes a story, and sometimes, if she was very lucky, Jenny would sing her a sweet tune.

**Despair**

It had been seven months, seven human months since Jenny had been taken, seven months since Jenny had been lost, seven months since she had been _murdered. _Vastra closed her eyes, and thought back, back to the conference call, back to her last memories of her beloved. Cursing, Vastra bit her lip as she wondered what might had happened if only she had been patient enough to hear Jenny out, after all, Jenny had known something was wrong right from the beginning.

Grasping the bloodstained weapon that she held in her hand, Vastra staggered blindly back to the manor, without thought, without reason. The grief that welled up inside her was like honey, thick and viscous, flowing staunchly through her reptilian veins, sending waves of vertigo to her consciousness.

Jenny. She thought, trying to stabilise herself as she lurched through the door. Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, Jenny.

Jenny.

She didn't make it up the stairs before she collapsed, her whole body aching with the desire for her beloved, burning for the flickering candle that was her best friend.

"Jenny," she said weakly, almost smiling as the name rolled off her tongue, "Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, Jenny," over and over, the word rained from her mouth, like the fat raindrops that fall in summer. But it wasn't enough, it would never be enough. No amount of wishing or hoping was ever going to bring her pink ape back, because she wasn't lost, she was gone.

**Acceptance**

The world had changed, since Jenny, in more ways the one. The streets were thick with smoke of the latest motor vehicles, and girls dressed in skimpy looking outfits tottered about as though they owned the place. It was 1969, and Vastra knew that there was one- possibly two- versions of the Doctor hiding in the streets somewhere, but she didn't know where, and even if she did he wouldn't know _her. _

She hadn't seen the Doctor since Trenzalore, and she didn't want to. She knew that it wasn't his fault, but for some stupid reason she couldn't stop BLAMING him, and she hated herself for it, especially when she knew, in reality, it had been her own fault. But it didn't matter, not anymore.

Because it was time to forgive, and time to move on, but not time to forget. It would never been time to forget. Because Jenny, her soft, pink, beautiful Jenny was her first and most important, Jenny was forever. She was the one who taught her how to love, not just another, but herself.

**a/n okay so I just kind of took creative liberty and assumed that Silurians live A LOT longer than humans, although I am pretty sure it is confirmed if not hinted at in the show.**

**Also, if any of you follow my Beauxbaton Beauty story, I HAVE NOT ABANDONED IT! I am just waiting for my school term to finish, as focusing on a long term story is difficult, especially considering I am in my final year of school :)**

**please review! xx**

**~theworldabove**


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